The Tomb of Love
by Morbid Desires
Summary: Neither Morticia nor Gomez get along well in their home life. They both seek refuge at a local cemetery, it was bound to happen that they would meet. Rated M for future chapters.
1. What Was She Thinking?

**Disclaimer: The characters and anything else that may be part of the characters and scenery and other ideas that belong to Chas Addams or Paramount do not belong to me. The plot and anything you don't recognize is mine.**

**A/N: Enjoy, I don't think I've written my version of Morticia's Romance, only reworded the one that is in the 1960's TV show. Therefore, I decided to write my own. Please remember to review at the end!**

Morticia sat listening to her parents as they yelled at each other about her and her sister's futures. It had been this way since Ophelia came of age about two years ago. Her mother, always the traditionalist, thought that Ophelia should be married to some Addams boy through an arranged marriage. Her father believed she should be able to find love, that both of his daughters deserved to find love. Her mother was insistent that Ophelia be married first, now that Morticia was of age as well. Her father didn't care. It was a constant battle that rang throughout their mansion. Morticia put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound. She pulled her knees up to her chest, making herself small.

"Why do you care if they find love? You and I were an arranged marriage! And your lover ran off with your best friend!" her mother never could seem to let that go. How her husband had been in love before, and how she had run off with his best friend, and best man, the night before they were to be married. Her father's parents then arranged the marriage with Morticia's mother. They had never loved each other, it was merely a marriage of convenience.

Morticia had enough, quietly she crawled out of her fetal position and found her cloak. She went over to her window and opened it, wincing as it squeaked, but the shouting of her parents was enough that neither of them seemed to hear the noise. Morticia thanked the fact that Ophelia was staying at a friend's house. Morticia didn't have any friends. Carefully she leaned out and let the cloak fall, relishing the cold night air as it washed over her flushed skin. Once the cloak hit the ground two stories below she glanced behind her, hearing the raised voices erased any doubts that she might have had. She threw a leg over the side of the sill and gently lowered herself so she was hanging from the window. Skillfully, obviously having practiced the motion thousands of times, she pushed off from the wall of the house and turned midair to catch herself in the tree about five feet away. She paused, making sure she could still hear the voices; they were there, as persistent as ever. As she climbed down the bare branches of the tree she wondered what would happen if her parents ever learned that she snuck out at night. If they ever opened her bedroom door and found her not there or caught her as she was making her escape. But then she perished the thought, they never went in her room anymore. Just yelled for her to come out and when she didn't they assumed she was asleep, even though she rarely slept anymore.

She reaches the bottom of the tree and picks up her cloak, tying it around her neck to keep out the late night winter chill. She began walking down the road to the gates that would remove her from the Frump Estate. The gate didn't make a noise as she eased it open and closed again, making sure to leave the latch slightly open so she could get back in afterwards. She had scaled the twelve foot stone wall that surrounded the property once, she never wanted to do that again. She began walking down the road toward the one place where she felt safe, where it was quiet and nobody ever disturbed her. It was a warm winter night, though her breath was still coming out in little puffs of steam. The light of the full moon was almost bright enough to make her eyes hurt if she looked directly at it. The sky was clear and she searched for every constellation she knew. Finally she came to the gates of the cemetery, they were supposed to be locked, but they only looked that way. The padlock was closed, but it was only on one part of the chain, the chain wrapped loosely around the two iron doors.

Morticia undid the chain and slipped inside the gates, relishing the feeling that she was at home. There was no fog, which slightly disappointed the pale woman, but she didn't dwell. She walked among the gravestones, not bothering to read the names because she knew them all by heart. Suddenly she got the song "Blue Danube Waltz" stuck in her head and she couldn't get it out. She figured she was alone here, why not dance? There was nobody to see her, at any rate.

Slowly she started to twirl and glide, knowing the steps to the waltz from the countless ball dancing lessons her mother had insisted she take. She closed her eyes, imagining a dark masquerade ball and a handsome man wearing one of those beaked masks dancing with her. She fancied that her dress would be made of the most exquisite red satin covered in the darkest black lace. She would wear black satin gloves that covered almost her whole arm and her own mask, a marvelous match to her dress, would be cat shaped.

Suddenly she wasn't just imagining that she was dancing with a man, she could feel the man under her fingertips and he certainly felt inviting. Her eyes flew open to reveal a cocky grin topped by a pencil mustache on top of olive colored skin. Dancing brown eyes met hers as she stopped spinning and stepped away.

"I apologize, senorita, I didn't mean to startle you."

Morticia stared at the strange man. He looked even more inviting when she could get a good look at him from a slight distance. He was wearing a Breaking Benjamin t-shirt and loose fitting jeans. He was slightly taller than her and well built, his muscles almost reached the sleeves of his shirt and she could tell he had some serious abs. She looked down at her own drab outfit: a black knit sweater that fell off her shoulders and her black and red plaid shirt all accompanied by her knee high Converse. She was wearing her cloak to keep the chill off, and she wished it didn't look so old fashion. She looked up again, meeting those dancing brown eyes.

"That's alright," she replies, a small smile on her red lips.

"You dance very well, have you had practice?" the boy asks. He doesn't seem to be cold, even though all he's wearing is the t-shirt.

"My mother made both my sister and I take ball dancing lessons when we were younger," she said. "Are you cold? It can't be much more than twenty degrees."

He shrugged, but the motion revealed to Morticia the goosebumps running up and down his arms. "Not really."

Morticia gives him a skeptical look, "Yeah, that's why there's little bumps all over your arms." She turns, wondering why she's spending her time with this boy. She thinks she's seen him in school before, but only in her core classes like history, English, science and math. She didn't care much for school, but she always kept her grades up, knowing that the better she did, the sooner she could be out of there.

"Don't go!" he called, she could hear him jogging to catch up. "I'm sorry, yes, it's a little chilly. I left without my coat, I couldn't stand to stay in the house any longer and I just . . . walked out."

Morticia turned back to him, "See? Was that so hard? You could have said that to start with."

"Sorry."

Morticia sat on the bench under the willow tree that rested in the center of the cemetery. It didn't make much sense to her to have a bench in the middle of a cemetery, after all, how many people really came to enjoy the company of the dead? In all of the two years that she had been coming here she had never seen another living soul. Until now. She takes off her cloak and hands it to him as he sits beside her. "Here, at least I have long sleeves."

"I can't leave you out in the cold," he protests. "We'll share." He gently wraps the heavy fabric around the both of them, but Morticia notes the fact that he left his arm around her shoulders.

"So do you come here often?" she asks, feeling uncomfortable in the silence. She wants to talk to him, but she can't come up with words to say. Normally she doesn't talk to anybody.

"Yeah, I come here quite a bit, especially when I don't want to be at my house."

Morticia knew how that felt, "But I've never seen you before."

"Well, normally I don't come at night but . . ." the boy trailed off.

"But what?" Morticia asked, wondering what was troubling him.

He chuckled uncomfortably, "Look at me, I don't even know your name and I'm ready to spill my world of problems on your shoulders. You've probably got enough problems of your own if you hang out in a cemetery."

Morticia didn't know why, but she felt offended at that last comment. She got up, intending to go somewhere else when she felt his warm hand on her wrist, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound mean. Please, sit."

After a few moments of consideration, she does as she's bid. "My name is Morticia Frump."

"And I'm Gomez Addams," he replies, catching her gaze with his, he still hasn't let go of her wrist, and she hasn't made him.

"There, now you know my name. What's your problem?" Morticia asks, feeling the need to break the tension growing.

Gomez laughs, "Well, let's just say my mother and I don't see eye to eye. She wants to me get married to some girl I don't even know in some arranged marriage. I'm not even out of high school! I had intended on seeing the world when I graduated, going to concerts, enjoying life. Not getting married and settling down! Yeah, sure, I think it would be nice someday, maybe even I'd have kids. But not now, you know?"

Morticia sat quietly, listening intently. "Yeah, I think I know how you feel. My mother is the same way. She thinks that my sister and I should be married off already, but my father thinks we should be able to marry in our own time. When we find love. They argue about it constantly. That's why I'm here. It's quiet and I don't have to think about who is eventually going to win the battle and decide my future for me," Morticia says. She feels like she can trust this boy, even though she just met him, "But I feel like it's my future, you know? Like, what right do they have to decide it for me? They aren't the ones that are going to have to live with it for the rest of their lives."

Gomez listened just as intently as she had, nodding every now and then like he agreed. "That's exactly how I feel about it."

Morticia smiles, still aware that he hasn't let go of her wrist. Her gaze travels down to it. Suddenly he lets go and the cold winter air replaced the warm touch. She realized she missed it. "I'm sorry."

Morticia looked at him and caught his still retreating hand in her own, twining her fingers through his, "Why do you keep apologizing?" she whispered, suddenly out of breath, noticing for the first time how close they were.

"I have no idea," he replied, sounding just the same.

His hand felt right in hers, they fit together perfectly. Morticia couldn't help but wonder if the rest of them fit just as perfect. Her eyes focused on their linked hands and then his face, his eyes, his lips, his eyes, his lips, before finally fluttering shut completely.

She felt his lips on hers and she moved automatically, kissing him back. It was a tentative kiss at first, sweet and unsure of itself. But quickly it grew into something much more passionate. She noticed how well she reacted to him, his lips parted and closed in the exact same time as hers. There was never a moment where they were once out of sync with each other. She felt her tongue exploring his mouth and his tongue was like a shy little boy. They would meet and she could feel him pull back and merely meet her lips again. When they finally broke apart they were both breathing hard and Morticia's lips were hot and felt a little swollen. Gomez's lips were most certainly a little bit puffier than they had been minutes ago. Morticia could feel a smile work its way onto her lips and Gomez seemed to imitate her expression. She kissed him again, unlacing her fingers from his and twining them around his neck. She played with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck as she felt his arms circle her waist, pulling her to him. She wasn't quite sure how, but she ended up in his lap, straddling his legs, both hands held his face up to hers. She felt him move when he shifted to lower her onto the bench and she went willingly, without thinking of what she was doing or that she had just met this boy. It felt like she had known him her entire life. Morticia felt his lips on her neck and closed her eyes in ecstasy. She could feel her body automatically moving against his and his excitement was quite evident when he responded to her.

Suddenly he pulled away, he was looking down on her and the passion maked his voice rough and gravelly, "This is far too soon, and not the right place."

Morticia sighs, wondering what better place there could be, and wondering if it's far too soon and wrong how it can feel so right. She reaches up and places one last kiss sweetly on his lips, "Okay."

He gets off her, sitting back up and pulling her with him. Reluctantly she follows, wishing he wasn't so virtuous. She sighed, wondering what to talk about after something like that. Suddenly a group of bats flew overhead, covering the moon and she raised her face to the sound, imagining the feel of their many wings.

"Wow," she breathed, entranced by the display of beautiful creatures. When all of them had finished flying she turned to look at Gomez again and found that he was looking at her, an odd expression on his face.

"What?" she asked, wondering if something was out of place.

"Nothing, you're just the most extraordinary person I've ever met. I've never felt anything like I feel when I'm with you. And you're so beautiful . . ." Gomez trailed off, causing Morticia to blush.

"You're just saying that," she replied, embarrassed, she looked down at her shoes, letting her hair fall over her face and cover him from her view.

"No, I'm not," he said, taking her chin in his hand and pulling so that she had to look at him. He tucked her hair back behind her ear, "I meant every word."

Morticia felt the blush as it creeped up her face. She never blushed! He ran his thumb across the pink patches on her cheeks. "You're even more adorable when you're embarrassed."

Morticia, not able to stand this anymore, kisses him again. Though this time it was gently, unsure of herself. He kissed back, and his kiss was like a question against her lips, which she answered by deepening the kiss.

Gomez was again the first one to pull away, "I should really be getting back, Mama doesn't stop me when I leave, but I'm always back before morning."

Morticia nodded, getting up and offering her hand, which he took. Gomez went to put the cloak back on Morticia's shoulders but she stopped him, "Keep it. You need it more than I do right now, I mean, at least I've got a sweater.

He nodded and put it on, it didn't quite fit his shoulders correctly, they were broader than her own, and so it puffed out a bit and hung higher, hitting only about his knees whereas on her it came almost all the way to the ground. The cold winter air bit into her bare shoulders but she didn't mind, especially not after he put his arm around her, blocking out the chill with her cloak. They walked back to the gates in silence, hand in hand. When they finally reached them, Gomez turned to Morticia, "I have to see you again, when can I see you again?"

Morticia laughed a little, "I don't know. Normally I sneak out when my sister isn't home and my parents are arguing."

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

Morticia looked into those beautiful brown eyes and was about to refuse, but something in them wouldn't let her. She knew Ophelia would be back tomorrow, that her sister would surely notice if she was gone. If her parents weren't arguing they would definitely hear if she left. There was no way she could possibly make it back to see him again. "Yes."

The smile that broke across his face was so genuinely happy that Morticia couldn't remember why she wouldn't have wanted to see this silly boy. "Tomorrow is Saturday, how soon can you be here?"

Morticia thought, perhaps if she left a little before midnight nobody would notice her absence. She would just say she was going to bed early because she didn't feel well at about ten or so. "Midnight."

Gomez beamed, "Perfect."

They closed the gate together and Morticia turned to look at Gomez one more time and was greeted by his warm lips. It was a quick kiss. One that left Morticia wanting for so much more. And then he was gone, slinking off into the trees on the other side of the road. Morticia sighed, what had she gotten herself into? She turned and started walking back to her house, the early morning chill causing goosebumps on her arms which she rubbed away. All she could think about on her way back to the Frump Estate was Gomez and his silly pencil mustache and those intense brown eyes. The way his hair, just a little shaggy, would flop into his eyes every now and then and he would have to flip it back out. His olive skin. The way his warm lips felt against hers. The contrast of his skin against hers. How perfectly the two of them seemed to fit together. How comfortable she was when she was around him, as though she had known him her entire life. What had she gotten herself into? The question wouldn't stop running through her head. She finally reached the gate to her home and pushed it open, latching it when she was on the other side. She walked up the long drive and around to the back of the house, directly beneath her open window. No sound came from inside the house and all the lights were off. Morticia wondered if her father was in the living room on the couch or if they had settled enough of their differences for her mother to let him sleep in the bedroom with her. She wondered why her father didn't just take up permanent residence in one of the many guest rooms they had. She thought of Gomez again, and what it would be like to be married to him. She chided herself for the thought as she started to scale the side of the house but she couldn't seem to shake it from her mind. She couldn't imagine ever fighting with him the way her parents fought with each other.

She reached the window and pulled herself inside, swinging her legs over the edge and closing the opening. She shivered, it was cold. She was glad she had put her old comforter on. She hadn't used it in years, preferring her new one with the red roses on a black backdrop, however, the combination of that one with her old wolf and moon setting would probably be enough to warm her up again. Quickly she threw on her lacey nightdress and climbed under the blankets. What had she gotten herself into? She sighed as the question appeared once again. _You were just thinking about what it would be like to marry the guy, and you barely even know him! And you agreed to meet him again tomorrow, what were you thinking?!_ The nasty voice inside her head wouldn't leave her alone about it. Finally another part spoke up, _Shut up! I don't care what you think! He's sweet and kind and handsome. What was I thinking? I was thinking that I had finally found somebody who I could stand to be around for longer than five seconds! Somebody who might be my friend._

The other voice scoffed, _Since when do you care if you have friends?_

She pictured herself glaring defiantly into a mirror, _Since I met Gomez Addams, that's when. And there's nothing anybody is going to do to keep me from seeing him,_ she decided as she drifted off to sleep thinking of those warm lips.

**A/N: Again, all reviews are welcome!**


	2. All is Fair in Love and War

**Disclaimer: The characters and anything else that may be part of the characters and scenery and other ideas that belong to Chas Addams or Paramount do not belong to me. The plot and anything you don't recognize is mine.**

**A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to comment and critique the first chapter, I enjoyed all of your reviews and I hope you will continue to read and review my story (s).**

Morticia slept until three hours after noon the next day and her parents let her. It was the first good night sleep she had gotten in months and she enjoyed every moment of it. When she finally got out of bed she threw her covers off and padded across the hall to the bathroom.

"Mother, Father! Morticia's just now waking up!"

Morticia sighed, couldn't she even relieve herself without her sister screaming about something she was doing wrong. She heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Morticia! We need to talk to you, get out here! You can't hide in there forever!" her mother's irritating voice drifted through the not-heavy-enough wooden door.

"Can I have just a minute to finish what I'm doing?" she yelled back.

"If you aren't downstairs in the kitchen within the next five minutes you'll be grounded for the week!"

Morticia sighed again, this was the common routine. She came out of the bathroom to find Ophelia standing in the doorway to her room. She stuck her tongue out at her sister, who copied her and then ran down the stairs, "Mother! Father! Morticia stuck her tongue out at me!"

Morticia rolled her eyes, following her sister at a much slower pace.

"Morticia Amelia Frump! How old are you? Because last I checked you weren't five!" Morticia's mother screamed as she came into the kitchen to reveal her parents sitting at the table and Ophelia spinning on one of the bar stools. Morticia walked over to the fridge and got a glass of water, drinking thirstily.

"And last I checked we were past the tattle tailing stage and old enough to live with somebody sticking their tongue out," she retorted, refilling her glass.

"That's it, young lady, you're grounded!"

Morticia rolled her eyes. She wished her father would say something to defend her, but, as usual, he stayed silent.

"Whatever," she muttered, going back up the stairs.

"Hey! We aren't finished here!" Morticia's mother grabbed her wrist, jerking her back into the kitchen. Morticia looked at her mother's pale hand in disgust. She pulled her hand away, turning back to the stairs.

"Yes, _Mother_, I think we are," Morticia said coldly, putting an extra accent on the word 'mother' because she had never acted like Morticia's mother. She went into her room and slammed the door, turning on her stereo and letting it blare out the words to Evanescence's "Everybody's Fool." The MP3 player she had plugged into her speakers rotated through her collection of Evanescence, Shinedown, Marylin Manson, Breaking Benjamin, Paramre and Halestorm. She went to her closet, trying to find something suitable to meet Gomez in that night. She managed to find a slightly longer dark crimson skirt with a black tulle fabric along the hem. She threw the bottom over onto her bed and continued to rummage, looking for a suitable top that would match. Finally she found a tight-fitting red long sleeve and her black lace covering to go over it and make it match the skirt. She scrutinized the outfit and found that it was missing something, though she wasn't sure what. She went back and dug through her drawers until she found her new corset, the one she had just bought, the material worked perfectly with the tulle on the skirt. She smiled as she went over to her shoes piled at the bottom of her closet. She couldn't seem to decide on her knee high Converse again or her knee high combat boots. Suddenly she found her thigh high boots and knew that they were the perfect ones. She almost regretted having sent her cloak home with Gomez the night before, because now she had nothing to wear to keep her warm when midnight came. Regretfully she found a sweater that would match the skirt as well, that fit much the same as the one she had worn the night previous.

Satisfied with her wardrobe, Morticia hid all of the clothes under her pillow and snuck down the hall to the bathroom. She could hear her sister talking with her parents about her sleep over downstairs in the kitchen, so she knew she was safe for at least a little while. She gathered up all of her makeup and made her way back to her room. She intended on putting everything on after she 'went to bed sick.' She spent the rest of the day sketching various parts of him and listening to her music. And it was a good day, she only had to chase her sister out of her room once.

"Morticia, get down here and eat!" she sighed as her mother's voice drew her from her daydreams. She would have stayed where she was, but she had to be at supper because it was part of her plan. Slowly she dragged herself down the stairs, trying to look ill and pathetic and doing a pretty good job if she did say so herself. She slumped into her chair and looked at the food, thinking about how nice and normal it looked. She felt sick just observing it, this was going to be easier than she thought.

"What's the matter with you? You look sick," her mother griped. She glared at Morticia and then added, "Are you pregnant?"

Morticia looked at her mother in horror, her plan forgotten, "No, I'm not pregnant! I'm still a virgin for God's sake!" She got up, not even bothering to excuse herself, and went upstairs to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her. She heard footsteps on the stairs and coming down the hall but she didn't move from her place by the sink.

"Morticia, you know you're mother just worries about you. She doesn't want anything to tarnish your reputation for later in life," her father's voice drifted through the door. Morticia thought of how, at one point in time, that would have been enough to get her back downstairs and acting friendly. But not anymore. She didn't fall for her father's tricks anymore. She didn't fall for any of their tricks anymore, they all wanted her out of the house. And she would happily leave, but she knew that the moment she set foot off the Frump property, her mother would call the police and report her as a runaway. There was no way for her to win.

"No, she's worried about her own fucking reputation," Morticia said back, looking up into the mirror at her dry eyes. They were blue as ice, and it was the only way Morticia could see that she was pissed, because she could control everything on her. Except her eyes. Her eyes were what always gave her away. And she hated them for it.

"Hey, we don't need that kind of language in this house, young lady," her father tried to sound harsh in his reprimand through the door, but it had no effect on Morticia. His threats meant nothing to her. They hadn't for a very long time. She didn't answer him and eventually she heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs again, leaving her in peace. Quickly she unlocked the bathroom door and stormed down the hall to her own bedroom where she proceeded to slam that door. She turned her stereo back and threw herself onto her bed, wondering if she could still make her plan work. She glanced at the clock, 8:54; there were still about two and a half hours to go before she could leave to meet Gomez. She sighed, she wished she could stop thinking of him but he was a constant irritation on her mind. She couldn't seem to get him out of her head. She glanced over and caught sight of her sketchbook, not even it provided relief from him; he was drawn on every page. She glanced back at the clock and was dismayed to find that only five minutes had passed since she looked at it last.

Ophelia threw the door open and danced around the room, "Mother and Father aren't happy with you."

Morticia sighed, "Get out of my room, Ophelia."

Ophelia picked up the sketchbook and started looking at the pages, "Oooo, who's this? He's cute!"

Morticia wasn't sure why, but the fact that Ophelia thought Gomez was cute made her angry, "I said 'GET OUT!'" Morticia yelled, snatching the book back and pushing her sister towards the door.

"Geez, no need to be so touchy," Ophelia started, turning in the doorway. Morticia slammed the door and moved her desk chair over under the handle.

"Mother! Morticia slammed the door in my face!" she heard her sister complain, running towards the stairs no doubt.

Morticia rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "No, genius, I closed it nicely. And that's why she probably heard the sound. And I bet you I also said, 'have a nice day!'" She threw herself back onto her bed again, wondering what punishment she would receive this time. She wished her sister would mind her own business.

She heard rapid knocking on her door, "Morticia! Get out here!"

Morticia sighed as she went to face her mother, pulling the chair away and opening the door to reveal her mother, looking very red faced.

"I am sick and tired of this attitude of yours, young lady!" she started.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Morticia asked, sneering, her mother had been telling her the same thing for the past five years.

She was stuttering and fumbling for words in her fury, "You are grounded!"

"Yeah, I know, you already told me that," Morticia replied, then put on a mock thoughtful face, "Though I don't think you mentioned how long . . . Oh, wait, you never ungrounded me from the time before that! So, what is that now? I'm three times grounded? How long does that last? The rest of my life? Because I thought you wanted to marry me off . . ." Morticia gave a sweet smile at the vein popping out from her mother's forehead. She watched happily as the woman grabbed the handle to the door and pulled it shut, screaming, "I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE UNLESS YOU'RE GOING TO AND FROM SCHOOL!"

Morticia laughed, saying under her breath, "Perfect." She glanced at the clock, no way to pass the time like fighting with your family. She pulled the desk chair back over under the handle and went to her bed to pull out her wardrobe for the evening. Quickly she got dressed and put on her makeup and then turned off her stereo and light. She glanced at her clock, 11:00. She had a little while to go before she left so she sat on her bed and listened to the rest of her house going to bed.

Quietly she opened the window, thankful that it didn't creak this time. She eased herself over the side of the sill and pushed off, catching herself in the tree again. She didn't even bother to climb all the way down, she jumped the last couple of feet from the second to lowest branch. She started walking down the road, looking over her shoulder to make sure Ophelia wasn't watching. She made it to the gate and out without a hitch, but just as she was going around the corner she thought she saw Ophelia watching from her window. She quickly turned around but didn't see anything. She hoped she was just nervous and had imagined it. She continued walking to the cemetery and her heart sped up as it came into view.

Gomez was nowhere to be seen when she came up to the gate and the chain wasn't touched. An idea struck her and she opened the gate, leaving the chain slightly off to let him know she was there, and made her way to the willow they had sat under the night before. Carefully she climbed up the tree and perched on a branch to wait for him.

She finally heard him clumping along up the path and watched him plop down on the bench right below her. She had to suppress the giddy giggles that rose as she adjusted her weight, preparing to drop in on him. He was playing with her cloak absently and she smiled as she watched. Finally, decided she had observed long enough, she dropped, landing easily a couple of inches in front of him.

He smiled up at her, not surprised in the least, "I saw you as I came in. And I heard you readjusting. Nice landing though, by the way," he explained.

Morticia sighed, "Thanks." She sat next to him and he handed her the cloak, she nodded her thanks.

"So how was your day without me?" he asked, a cocky grin turning up the corners of his fine mouth.

Morticia looked at him doubtfully, she wasn't about to let him know he was the only thing she had been thinking of for the last twenty-four hours. "It was fine, we were busy most of the day." She saw his face fall and felt a little bad, "But it was a little boring." That seemed to help.

"Well, maybe I can unbore you," he said, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes.

"Oh? And how will you do that?"

"Like this," he replied and kissed her softly. He then pushed her away lightly and sprang to his feet, sprinting off. "Catch me if you can!"

Morticia laughed, it had been a very long time since she'd played any sort of games. She jumped up and began chasing him, he was jogging between the tombstones and she finally gave up and began jumping over them. She took one final leap from atop a particularly new looking headstone and landed on him, forcing the both of them onto the prickly winter grass. They rolled over a couple of times, laughing.

When they finally stopped rolling, Morticia was laying on him, her hands resting lightly on his chest. She gave him a particularly passionate kiss and then leaped up, grinning at his stunned expression. She laughed,

"Now it's your turn!"

She took off running back in the direction of the willow and bench but changed course at the last minute, heading towards the giant mausoleum. She checked over her shoulder to see where he was and couldn't find him. She slowed, looking closer and was hit in the side and driven up against the wall of the giant tomb, her wrists pinned. She hit it hard and looked up into Gomez's eyes to see them filled with lust, he kissed her hard, forcing her against the wall. She responded with just as much ferocity, placing a playful nip on his lip and grinding against him. Eventually he was pressing against her so hard that she couldn't move; she loved every second of it.

When he pulled back she could see his eyes were still alight with his passion but he seemed to have gotten the beast under control. Morticia was a little sat to see it go. "That wasn't fair," she whispered, not able to speak any louder because of her own passions.

Gomez chuckled slightly, pulling away even farther, "All is fair in love and war."

Morticia gave a small smile, "Trop vrai."

Gomez pinned her again, an arm on either side of her, "What was that?" he sounded breathless.

Morticia looked up at him, confused, "Trop vrai, it means 'too true' in French."

Gomez reached for one of her hands hanging by her sides and pressed the tips of her fingers to his lips. "I know what it means, Tish, say something else . . ." he trails off, continuing to kiss her arm. She smiles quizzically at him, but sees no reason to make him stop. He looks up when she doesn't speak, "Is it okay if I call you 'Tish'?"

"Of course," Morticia replied, watching this strange man who had captured her affections so efficiently.

Gomez caught her watching him and gave her a confused smile, "What?"

The girl shook her head, starting to walk back in the direction of the cemetery gates, "Nothing."

"I want to know," Gomez called, jogging to catch up to her.

"I don't know, when I figure out I will tell you," she replied, not looking at him.

"I guess that's all I can ask for," he says, reaching down to hold her hand. She skillfully pulled it away, using it to play with her hair and then grab her cloak from where it had fallen by the bench during her chase. She continued walking swiftly towards the entrance to the cemetery. Gomez fought to keep up with her.

"Morticia, I don't understand. Was it something I said?" he asked as she reached the gates and turned, closing them on him, separating them.

"No, Gomez, you're absolutely perfect and there's nothing you've done wrong. I'm just . . ." she trailed off, fighting for words, "I need to think."

Gomez came over to the gate, putting his arm through the bar so that he could rest his hand gently on her chin. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and savoring it for a little bit longer before turned sharply on her heel and walking back down the road, away from him.

What was wrong with her? She was leaving behind the only person she had ever felt this strongly for in her entire life. And that was exactly why she had to leave him behind. She was scared to fall in love, especially like this. She didn't like losing control and this had all spun drastically out of control. She had barely met the boy and yet he had been a constant bother on her mind since. Dreadful butterflies paraded around her stomach every time she saw him and her heart would speed up when he was near. He made it hard for her to breath and thinking was impossible. She had to regain her control. There was no reason to react this strongly towards him. She needed to distance herself before she was in too deep to escape. When Morticia got back to her house she easily scaled the wall of the house back into her room and closed the window. She didn't care if her sister heard and told her parents. She wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon anyway. She didn't bother changing clothes, just climbed into her bed and closed her eyes. Wishing she could get Gomez out of her head and stop thinking of him but knowing sleep wouldn't provide a refuge because he would only enter her dreams.

**A/N: Again, please review!**


	3. An Unexpected Announcement

**Disclaimer: The characters and anything else that may be part of the characters and scenery and other ideas that belong to Chas Addams or Paramount do not belong to me. The plot and anything you don't recognize is mine.**

"Tishy, can I come in?" Ophelia knocked, her voice drifted through the door and only served to annoy Morticia. She sat on her bed, refusing to pick up her sketchbook, knowing he would be the only thing she could think of to draw. She hadn't slept since she came back and she hadn't left her room for anything except to go to the restroom. She had been listening to her music in her headphones since she returned and the only reason she heard Ophelia was because she had just gotten back from one of said trips to the restroom and hadn't gotten around to putting them back on yet.

"You're going to whether I want you to or not."

Ophelia tenderly opened the door and came in, closing it softly behind her. "Why is it so dark in here? Why don't you open the shades?" her sister went over to the window and was about to pull the curtains back.

"Don't!" Morticia snapped, "I like it dark. The sun hurts my eyes."

Ophelia stopped and took in her sister. She looked even paler than usual; her ebony curls seemed to have lost their luster and her eyes were dull, almost hollow. She looked genuinely ill.

"What's the matter with you, Tishy?" she asked, a hint of true concern in her tone.

"Nothing is the matter with me, Ophelia, I'm tired," Morticia replied, irritated.

"Oh . . . kay," Ophelia replied, sounding a little hurt by her sister's harsh reply. But for once she didn't go running to Mommy and Daddy or return the snide remark. She started to make her way out, but stopped at the door, only turning halfway. "I just wanted to tell you that Mother finally won the battle. I am to be married to Gomez Addams in six months' time." She gently closed the door behind her, not looking back at her sister.

Tears sprang to Morticia's eyes and she wished she had never met Gomez. Had never snuck out two nights ago and met him by chance in the cemetery. She hadn't realized that he was the boy her mother had chosen for Ophelia and that he was the boy she had been arguing with her father about for the last several weeks. Morticia was angry at the aching in her chest, she shouldn't care that her sister was marrying a random boy she had met one night in the cemetery. She shouldn't care at all, but she did. No matter how much she tried to deny it, in the end she had to admit to herself that she did care. She cared a lot. She cared enough to risk breaking her heart by going to see him again that night. The idea was like a maggot, lodging itself in her brain and refusing to go elsewhere. It was a leech that attached itself to everything she did for the remainder of the day and sucked the life out of everything she loved. And the part that bothered her most was that she wanted to see him. She wanted to feel him under her fingers and run her hands through his ridiculous hair. She wanted to kiss those ridiculous lips that were topped by that ridiculous mustache. She wanted to smell that ridiculous scent that was uniquely his own and she wanted to hear that ridiculous voice that made her heart beat faster and her blood run hotter. And she hated him for it. She hated that he had this amount of control over her. She hated it with every fiber of her being and yet she couldn't help but long for it. Long for him. She had to see him.


	4. Without Remorse

**Disclaimer: The characters and anything else that may be part of the characters and scenery and other ideas that belong to Chas Addams, Paramount, MGM or 20th Century Fox do not belong to me. The plot and anything you don't recognize is mine.**

Morticia glanced in the mirror one last time, checking her appearance before climbing out her window. She didn't care if her family caught her leaving, they had already ruined her as it was and if it weren't for them she probably wouldn't be going. She made her way to the cemetery, determination set in every element of her being. But when she rounded the corner and saw him standing there looking lost and confused, everything she had been talking herself into and motivating herself for flew from her system. She couldn't remember any of it, and her heart soared at the sight of him. And she hated him for it. She walked up to him, intending full heartedly to lay a solid slap across his cheek to convey all of her betrayal; she took his face in her hands and kissed him hard, sucking on his bottom lip. She had no idea what she was doing, but she felt completely powerless to stop herself. He was surprised at first, but then he slowly sunk into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. She felt his reaction and her previous intention flew back to her, slamming her in the face. She pulled back and the echo of her palm on his cheek rang throughout the cemetery.

He didn't move, even though she saw the red mark swell and a few scratches from where her nails had caught his skin. She glared, not saying a word, stubbornly waiting for him to make the next move. When he didn't say anything, only stared at her in shock, she angrily turned and ripped the chain off the gate, stalking inside and leaving it wide open for him to follow if he so wished. She didn't know what she was so angry about, she could only feel the rage coursing through her veins and driving her steps. She was generally a very conservative person, but this was an entirely new state of passion. One she understood nothing of.

For a short while she wondered if he actually was going to follow her, or if he had turned and left, but then she heard his steps behind her and his confused voice drifted sweetly up to her, music to her ears, "I don't understand, Morticia. What's going on?"

Morticia rounded on him, pointing a red tipped nail into his face to punctuate her point, "You know very well what the issue is, or you should."

She caught sight of the scratches and turned, not wanting to look at them. Sorry she had lost control. Wishing he didn't make her lose control like he did. She continued moving, if only so she wouldn't have to look at his face again. She could hear him sigh and start to follow her. "No, Morticia, I don't know. But I would if you would just tell me."

Morticia's heart broke when she thought about it. About saying it out loud. She opened her mouth to say it, but found a lump in her throat that prevented any words from coming forth. Tears stung her eyes as she thought about it and she silently chided herself for being so emotional. She covered her mouth to prevent the sob that suddenly rose, and turned all the way away from Gomez so he wouldn't see her weakness. She realized how close they were to the mausoleum and she walked over to it, pulling on the lever to open the door.

Suddenly she felt strong arms around her and his musk of cigar smoke, aftershave and that underlying scent that she had come to know as just him washed over her. The tears overflowed and she tried not to turn to him and hold him close to relieve the aching in her chest. He wasn't hers to have and she shouldn't have come. The sooner she could free herself of him the better. He was like a drug, something she was completely addicted to and something that was going to tear her apart. She shivered at his nearness as he turned her to face him. She looked up at him longingly through the tears as he gently wiped them away.

"I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong, cara mia."

She searched his eyes for any sign that he might know, but all she found was love and concern and that scared her more than anything.

"You really don't know?"

She asked the question even though she knew the answer. She knew she was stalling, not wanting to say that he was engaged out loud for fear that it would become even more real than it already was. For fear that she was accepting the fate that had been thrust upon them.

"No, I really don't. What is this about, Tish?"

She sighed, letting her hands rest lightly on his chest. "You're to be married. To my sister, Ophelia."

She watched his face go through the emotions, he was obviously unlike her in the fact that he was terrible at masking them. She couldn't help but notice the irony of that statement as it flitted through her conscious: at this moment she was doing a rather poor job indeed of masking her emotions. His face went from confusion to understanding, pain and anger . . . longing. Longing was the one she thought she liked most because it was one they both seemed to share in abundance. Longing for something they now could not have. Not unless they were going to break several rules of etiquette in the process. And the worst part, Morticia thought, was that she didn't know that she cared. She wanted him. And that was all she knew. It didn't bother her that it would destroy her sister or that her mother and father would probably never talk to her. It occurred to her that she would be perfectly content to simply stay here, in this cemetery with him and never return home.

"Querida, I swear, I didn't know," he finally said, he should have let her go then. Should have dropped his arms from around her and turned and left. But he didn't, in fact, he held her tighter and she enjoyed it all the more as his hands trailed down, resting in the small of her back and pushing her towards him. She never moved her hands from his chest, though she knew they didn't belong there.

"I know, Gomez," she answered, she was surprised by how breathless she sounded. She was painfully aware of how close their lips were in that moment and how terrible she was for wanting him so completely but she couldn't stop her eyes from fluttering shut. She couldn't stop his mustache from tickling her lips. She realized he was waiting for her to move, he wasn't going to force her to go against her family. What he didn't realize was that she didn't care how Ophelia or her parents felt about this. It felt too right to her to possibly be wrong. She reached up and pulled him down to her, their lips touching just ever so slightly. And yet, from that moment on all was lost. He deepened the kiss and she could practically taste his need as his tongue probed around experimentally.

His hands travelled even lower, lifting her up to him. He seemed to have forgotten all of his reservations from the couple of nights before and she was disinclined to remind him as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms flying out to the doorframe of the mausoleum and pushing them farther inside. His hands held her by the hips, lowering her onto the large sarcophagus at the center, her own hands traveled from his face to the hem of his shirt where they moved higher. He gasped, whether it was because her hands were cold on his scalding flesh or the move had been unexpected she didn't know but she stopped, looking up at him for confirmation to continue. His lips moved to her neck and his breath whispering across her own porcelain skin sent goosebumps down her spine, "Your hands are freezing!"

She smiled slightly, twining her cold fingers through his hair and forcing his lips even closer to her own flesh which stung as he nipped at it, "I know."

He growled as his hand traveled up her thigh carelessly and she gripped his shirt, pulling him down onto the stone with her. It crossed her mind once again that this was completely forbidden but she forced the unwanted thought away. She explored his well-toned chest, appreciative of the fine muscle she found there as he supported his weight with one hand beside her head. His other hand, she could feel, was still traveling up her thigh, ending finally at her lacy panties. He pulled them off in one fluid motion as her fingers worked of their own accord at his button and zipper. He growled again against her neck when it appeared she wasn't moving fast enough and he pulled back, doing the job himself and crawling back up to her. She reached up, kissing him again, much more heated this time and she thought he was going to give her what she wanted when he suddenly stopped.

"You're certain?" he rasped, his voice husky with his own passion. She noticed that his eyes seemed to be asking the question his voice did not: _Do you really want to do this to your sister? Can you really face the judgment of your parents? _She was hardly even aware of her sister at this point, the only thing in this world that seemed to exist was him and her; her need for him. She didn't even bother answering him, instead she forced her hips upward, joining them for him. He needed no more encouragement as he forced into her much more roughly than she had intended, perhaps she had underestimated him. The pain was exquisite and she couldn't stop herself from moaning his name which only drove him into an even more desperate frenzy. It was just when she thought she never could have been happier that she toppled over the brink so completely into him.

He collapsed against her, rolling slightly so he wasn't supported on only her, though she would have welcomed the nearness. Words were lost on the couple as moments passed between them, it was he that spoke first.

"There's no going back now." His words, to the untrained ear, might have sounded regretful, but Morticia could find no remorse in his Spanish accent as it graced her ears.

"Gomez, my darling, there was no going back from the moment I laid eyes on you," she confessed to him softly.

He placed a hot kiss on the skin of her forearm, his other arm snaking around her waist to pull her flush against him. "I'm glad I wasn't the only one."

Morticia closed her eyes contentedly, again the thought crossed her mind that she would be perfectly happy to simply stay here with him, in the cemetery for eternity.

**A/N: Reviews are always welcome!**


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